Tag Archives: Death

Pretty Good Flower

The night falls on my time alone. They are the same, the time, the night. I have I take I request I make I demand I require this time and because you know me I never get past “I have”… … Continue reading

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Every Decision

Every, Every Decision Is Life Or Death I could stay put, stand in line, be quiet. I could do my part, be a part of the team, cooperate. Maybe I should wait for a better time, maybe. Now’s not good. … Continue reading

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Twenty6

Twenty6 A to Z. All of them. The letters in my words drift away, unmoored, torn away, taken down, by a rip current. I have twenty6 to work in to something to say, but they, like me, are em ty. … Continue reading

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Hard at Work

Ever feel like you are watching over things that don’t matter? Who is it that does that watching? The thin line between personal mayhem, utter apathy or extreme violence is that we don’t know the time of our dying. If … Continue reading

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I’m Listening, Because This Matters

Taking potshots at the places I place my attention. I attend to the sick at work. My attention is riveted on my work much of the day. I make up stories about it mattering. My life does intersect with your … Continue reading

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Metronome

We stand side by side waving our arms beating time in the wind beautiful and senseless. I can’t get away from the turbines. The sound is the placental rhythm, the wind cut by the blade is the same as the … Continue reading

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As the Shadows, Long

god, the universe, the not-me, the power, the void, nothing at all: Like the arm on a skeet trap flinging clay, automatic, relentless flinging a spinning disc to water, flying, the critical first few rev-o-lu-tions           … Continue reading

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Part (for Jean)

In spite of the sureness of this ground and what I can see and the breath in my mouth and the love of my child, In spite of the sorrow that blankets the sick, the poor, the lonely; my god, … Continue reading

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Objects are Closer

If I could look in reverse in my life I might see that the end was always coming along for the ride from the beginning.  My son was born perfect and yet there he is, several days later, with a … Continue reading

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Untitiled 47

Untitiled 47 Continue reading

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